


Sometimes Love Is Not Enough

by cameronmonaghan



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Gallavich, I'm very sorry, M/M, i'm emo af right now, inspired by Born to Die by Lana del Rey, this is very tragic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-15
Updated: 2015-05-15
Packaged: 2018-03-30 15:29:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3941953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cameronmonaghan/pseuds/cameronmonaghan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-finale. Mickey doesn't know how to cope, so he doesn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sometimes Love Is Not Enough

The eerie silence of the Milkovich house was what really got to Mickey. There had always been things that should have affected him emotionally, but he'd always been able to distract himself around the house. This wasn't the case; There wasn't anybody left but him.

Mickey laid in his bed, filled with self-hatred and confusion. He didn't understand what had happened, or why Ian had been to quick to want to part ways. He had done everything for Ian, and it still wasn't enough. Hell, he'd  _still_ do anything for Ian. _Maybe I'm never gonna be enough_ , he thought. But he'd already assumed he'd never be enough for anyone or anything. Except for Mandy of course, but look where that got him. He was supposed to protect her, and now she was in Fucksville in the middle of  _fuckin'_ nowhere with Kenyatta. He tried to keep himself from wondering if she was even still alive, because the thought crossed his mind twenty times a day.

Beginning to wonder why people who were good to the world had it the worst, and people who weren't worth shit seemed to have it all, Mickey's reality became blurred. He began to focus intently on Ian Gallagher, the love of his life, who had crushed his heart without batting a fuckin' eye. After everything, he was tossed away like a used condom. Memories flashed through Mickey's mind. Memories of Ian admitting he'd been in a porno, memories of men at clubs grabbing at Ian, and Ian loved all of it. He loved attention. He never loved Mickey. 

Mickey hadn't even registered getting out of bed. Mind absent, he barely registered that he'd walked into his brother Iggy's room and began rummaging through his junk dresser. Finding a half gram of cocaine, Mickey stumbled through the house and moved to sit on the toilet. He wasn't sure how much time had passed, but he'd eventually polished off the bag, including licking it clean. He stood up, eyes wide, overly alert, and lifted the toilet seat. He tossed the baggie into the toilet and flushed it, moving back to the living room.

He leaned against the couch for some time. He had no clue how long, and didn't give it much thought. His limbs felt numb, but his fingers were tingling and heated. He opened the gun cabinet and closed it, bringing his hands up to rub at his face. He groaned into them, then stumbled backward. Mickey ran into his room, falling over onto his bed. He wanted to sob, to scream, but nothing came out. Forcing himself up, Mickey opened his dresser drawer and pulled out a gun. He grabbed ammunition and loaded it, then eyed the rolled joints in a Ziploc he'd stashed there to be sold. He felt the pocket of his jeans for a lighter, and after confirming there was one in the pocket, he checked again. He took a few steps, then checked again. "It's still there," he whispered quickly to himself.

Mickey spotted his coat laying on the floor near the window. He grabbed it and pulled it on, hiding the gun and the weed. He checked his jeans for the lighter again.  _Still there._

The brunette walked out of the front door of the house. He closed it behind him, but didn't bother to lock it. He wasn't coming back anyways, and nobody else was there. "Have at it!" he yelled to the neighborhood, then made a face, forgetting what he'd been saying and why. All he hoped for now was that his feet wouldn't fail him as he walked down the street in the direction of the Gallagher's house. It wasn't late, judging by the color of the sky. It was probably just after seven, Mickey assumed.

Studying the sky took up a surprising amount of Mickey's walk. It wasn't a far distance anyways, but he'd planned to figure out what he was going to do on the way to the Gallagher house. Now he was stood in front of the house he'd come to know so well, and Ian and Lip were stood on the porch, sharing a cigarette, facing away from the road. Mickey froze, not prepared. He'd have to wing it, he supposed.

"Hey Gallagher," he called, both of the boys turning to look at him.

"Yo, fuck off," Lip called immediately, causing Mickey to feel a little angry. He began to walk toward the porch, noticing that Ian looked uncomfortable. They hadn't seen each other since Ian had dumped him, and Ian clearly wasn't ready for any type of confrontation. Mickey hated that Ian could just continue on living his life, while he was at home and so depressed he was unable to get out of bed, or eat, or sleep. Maybe Ian really didn't love him.

"This ain't got shit to do with you," Mickey replied quickly, sniffing. Lip narrowed his eyes.

"You and Ian are  _over_. There's no reason to be here," Lip began to argue. "So fuck off before some unnecessary bull-"

"Lip, it's fine," Ian interrupted, much to Mickey's relief. Mickey really didn't feel like doing what he needed to do right here, in front of the kids. He needed Ian to get away from the house. He needed to be  _alone_ with Ian.

"Come take a walk with me?" Mickey asked Ian, ignoring the glare Lip had been holding. He wasn't sure what he'd done to make Lip so against him anyhow. He wasn't the one to have broken Ian's heart. Not this time around.

Ian nodded slowly, handing the cigarette back to Lip. Lip put it out and headed back inside, clearly unsatisfied with Ian's decision. Mickey frowned at that, sniffing again. He could taste the cocaine on the back of his tongue, reminding himself of how high he was. Ian gave another nod, and Mickey led the way.

"Kids don't play ball on the field 'till summer, right?" Mickey asked

Ian tilted his head, keeping a fair distance between him and his ex-lover. He wasn't sure what was going on, but something inside of him had wanted to follow Mickey, talk to him, look at him. Something inside of him always wanted Mickey in some form or another. That was part of the problem. "Uh, technically. I think some still do for fun. It's late now anyways. Why?"

Mickey shrugged. "That's where we're going." The field was usually unoccupied anyhow. He knew he'd probably ask twenty stupid questions, so Mickey kept quiet instead as he led the way to the old baseball field.

It only took a few minutes to get there. Ian immediately climbed the back of the fence to get into the dugout. Mickey quickly followed, falling to a sitting position when landing. He stayed there, leaning against the fence.

"You okay?" Ian asked, crouching down.

"Just high," Mickey admitted. "You wanna smoke?"

Ian nodded silently. Mickey  _hated_ the silence. He wanted anything but silence. Where was the Ian Gallagher he knew, that would never shut up?

Not realizing he'd zoned out, Ian cleared his throat to bring Mickey back to reality. Mickey sighed, shoving his hand into his jeans to grab the lighter. He pulled out the Ziploc baggie and pulled a joint out. He held out his hand with the joint and the lighter, and Ian took them. He lit up the joint, moving to sit properly on the cement next to Mickey. He leaned his head back against the fence as he exhaled the smoke, handing the lit joint to Mickey. Mickey took it, and they continued to pass it back and forth until there was nothing left.

Both high, Ian was the first to turn toward Mickey. He leaned his head against Mickey's shoulder, causing the older man to tense, staring down at Ian like he were some sort of alien. Ian didn't seem to notice, or if he did, he didn't seem to mind it.

"Do you really love me?" Ian asked out of the blue.

Mickey sighed, debating how he should answer. It was frustrating that Ian even had to ask; He'd always made it very clear that he loved Ian. Maybe not verbally, but the fact that Ian could even question it made Mickey's heart ache.

"Yeah," Mickey finally answered. "I do. Wish I didn't."

"Why?" Ian's heart began to ache a little, his throat tightening. The weed told him to wrap his arms around Mickey, so he did, holding him possessively. Though Ian was already sure he knew why Mickey _wouldn't_ love him. He'd only broken up with him  _because_ he wanted Mickey to have what he deserved in the first place. Mickey was worth so much more than him, Ian had thought.

Mickey didn't think it was fair; He'd tossed him away. Why did he get to be possessive now? Why did he get to talk about  _love_ now?

"I don't wanna talk about that, okay?" Mickey offered. "I just want to not think for a while."

Ian nodded. He unwrapped his arms from around Mickey and leaned up to kiss the other man without warning. Mickey didn't pull away, however. He kissed back, his back arching as Ian reached up to cup his face with both of his large, long-fingered hands. This felt like  _home_ , Mickey thought.

The redhead pulled away, smiling a little. "I love you too. I'm sorry I'm so shitty." He laughed a little, leaning his head forward, his forehead resting against Mickey's shoulder. He scoot closer, sitting against him.

"You been taking your meds?" Mickey asked, able to smile a little. He knew this was it, and he needed it to be good.

Ian grew silent. After a few minutes, he admitted, "No," in a wary voice.

"Didn't think so," Mickey replied quietly. He turned his head and kissed Ian on the forehead. "I want to actually have fun. We haven't had fun in forever, you know?"

"What? Like... Like, you wanna fuck?" Ian questioned, sitting back. He tilted his head, eyeing his ex-boyfriend curiously. He rocked back and forth, a bit more high than he'd realized.

"Nah man, like kiddish fun. Like playing fuckin' ball, or chasin' each other with our dicks in our hands." Mickey laughed. Ian laughed too.

"You're  _stoned_ ," Ian replied, leaning his head back against Mickey's shoulder. He wondered if this meant they were back together again. He hoped it did. He might even consider the meds, he thought.

The boys sat there in laughter, and Ian took Mickey's hand, playing with his fingers. He began to trace the tattoos, looking up to tell Mickey he loved him again. He figured he owed him that much. However, when he looked up, he looked directly into the face of a gun. And then after a loud bang, he didn't think, or hear, or see, or feel anymore.

Mickey turned the gun to himself and immediately pulled the trigger.

He'd known this was the only way they'd be together and stay together.

**Author's Note:**

> If you made it to the end of this, I'm so sorry, I'm so sad. Please leave comments and kudos!


End file.
